


The Temple of Flowers

by hazeltea (madlovescience)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlovescience/pseuds/hazeltea
Summary: Otabek is dying of Hanahaki Disease, but Yuri isn't letting one more person go without a fight. However, the price he'll pay might be too high...





	1. Chapter 1

_October 1, 2023_

"What do you hope to do once you retire?"

The question took Yuri by surprise. "I'm not retiring." He half snapped at the nosy woman with the microphone, not as sharply as he'd have liked to; both because it was her job to ask him stupid questions, and because it was difficult to be too sour with an armful of chubby gray tabby cat. It hadn't been a bad weekend, after all. All that had been required of him was to flash his gold medal and take pictures with dozens of shelter animals (he grudgingly had to admit that even the dogs they'd brought were cute), and an obscene amount of money would be made for the feline population of London.

 "Not soon, we hope. But no ideas?" She pressed.

"Life is skating." He replied. "If I can't skate, I'll end it." He took a little pleasure in her startled look, before carefully placing the cat on an armchair so that he could finish autographing a stack of photos. His grasp of English was functional, but he pretended to know less than he did as he nodded at the long line of people.

The incident passed from his mind until the following afternoon, when he checked his phone after landing in St. Petersburg.

**You shouldn't speak like that. I know you have your image to uphold, but you don't want to cause headaches for your sponsors.**

Yuri rolled his eyes. What the hell was Victor doing watching a foreign charity event, anyway? Didn't he have a life?

 **Fuck off, old man** , he fired back. It was less than a minute before the next alert.

**Will you come to Hasetsu? You haven't been home in months <3**

He blinked at the screen. **Not Yet.** He finally typed, before shoving the phone back into his bag, his mood souring. Home! As though he had a home there! No, he had _Victor's_ home, and Katsudon's family's, and he'd have to watch those two assholes grope each other the whole time, even in front of the damn parents, because they had no shame. Maybe there had been a time when he secretly dreamed of a little house in Hasetsu, maybe with a couple more cats, of a small wedding on the beach like Victor had, but that was out. For _obvious_ reasons. There was no way he'd expose himself to their tooth-aching love fest every day for the rest of his life now.

He still went, occasionally. Japan, Victor and Yuuri's part of Japan, was unlike anyplace else he knew. The world went quiet at the end of the flight. There was the ocean, and the onsen, and half the town treating him like family simply because he knew Yuuri. It was hot, too; the complete opposite of the city life he'd always lead. He couldn't blame Victor for getting caught up in the romance of it, but a sliver of him resented it, too. Just as he'd forgiven him for leaving him when he needed him the most the first time, he'd left again, and taken Katsudon with him; and Yuri would never tell a soul that he'd cried the night that they'd left.

A dark, flat nose poked through the door of his apartment as he opened it, and he dropped his bags to scoop Potya up into a tight hug before he protested, squirming out of his grasp and leading him to the kitchen with a loud meow.

"I know Mila fed you, so just stop." He muttered, locking the door behind him.  The suitcase could wait. He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear before padding into the kitchen to fill Potya's bowl. He didn't have much of an appetite himself, but he spooned out one of the pickled plums from the jar that Yuuko had sent him for his birthday and pocketed it in his cheek, sucking on the sour juice as he kicked out his yoga mat. He spread his legs and fell into a deep stretch, resting his forehead on the floor. He began his nightly attempt of breathing out the tension of the day.   _I have to remember to put money in Anya's account for Grandpa's shopping. Better do that tonight. Should pay all the bills tonight while I'm at it.  Should go to Moscow next weekend, if I do two extra hours of practice each day this week, that'll cover me. Should get some food in this place tomorrow, too. Did Mila change the box? Ugh._

Potya watched him expectantly as he changed positions, and jumped onto his arched back once he'd stilled. Maybe he _should_ go to Hasetsu soon. Having to speak English the past weekend reminded him that he could get a bit rusty, and his Japanese wasn't that great to begin with, even though Yuuri's family fussed over how good he supposedly was getting when he tried, which he did. He studied. Just not lately. About as long as since he'd spoken a word of Kazakh, the night he'd sobbed into a voice mail and begged to be taken back, until the line cut short with a beep and he'd called again, and again, _zhanym, please, I'll do whatever you say from now on._

He rose with an angry huff, sending Potya scampering off his back. Stupid, it was stupid to get worked up about the past now. It was just that he was jet lagged, and stupid Victor had annoyed him. He was overtired, that's why he was thinking this way. Maybe he'd just take a sleeping pill and get to bed early, he'd be glad of it at practice tomorrow. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and rubbed at the newer scabs on his feet as he fumbled in his bag for his phone and charger.

His hands tensed. Six missed calls, from his grandfather's caregiver. _Fuck._ He held his breath as he waited for the call to connect, it seemed to be taking twice as long as usual.

"Yuri?" Anya's voice was tired, and tense.

"What's wrong with Grandpa?" He demanded, cursing himself for ignoring the phone for so long.

"Yuri... I'm sorry. He passed away this afternoon... he was watching the television and when I brought him his medicine he... he was gone. I'm so sorry."

 _No. No! Not this. Anything but this._ He felt his throat closing up, and his face heating with the effort of not crying. He barely registered the rest of the phone call, somehow managing to squeak out a promise to hurry back to Moscow in the morning before hanging up. He felt the first trickle of hot tears down his face as he threw his phone across the room and let out a strangled scream.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuri sprawled out on his childhood bed, feeling numb. He'd followed the bare basics of funeral etiquette, feeling that his grandfather deserved to have a proper sending off, even if he was the only one there to see it. He wasn't, though. Victor and Yuuri had insisted on flying out to meet him, and Victor had even handled three of Grandpa's friends, entertaining them as he should have done. It had been six days. He hadn't left his bed for the past two.

Yuuri was cooking in the kitchen, and his stomach growled audibly at the smell. He hadn't eaten more than a bite or two of whatever was placed in front of him since he'd arrived. He felt too lightheaded, too miserable to move. Victor and Katsudon would have to leave eventually. Soon. What would he do then? He knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to go through the tiny apartment and pack up what he wanted to keep, and carry on with his life. He didn't feel up to doing it. He didn't even feel up to taking a shower.

Yuuri knocked lightly on the door frame, before coming in and placing a dish of something on the table beside him. It was some sort of fried chicken and cabbage concoction, and he seized on the food gratefully, eating almost half his plate before mumbling a thanks.

"Do you want me to help you pack?" Yuuri asked, quietly.

He nodded, not yet trusting his voice. He finished the last of his dinner before speaking.

"When are you going?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"A few more days." Yuuri paused. "We think that you should come back with us. Just for a little while."  He must have known that he was going to protest, as he quickly added, "Victor has already spoken to Yakov. Mila will watch your cat."

"Fine." He replied, relief flooding him. The thought of being alone was suddenly terrifying, for the first time in his life.

"Do you want to take a bath now?" Yuuri asked, collecting the plates.

Yuri bristled. He must really stink if Yuuri was asking him. But it had been what? Three days? He forced himself into an upright position, and tried not to sway as the dizziness hit him. His body wasn't used to staying still for so long. He'd be sore next time he hit the ice.

Once in the bathroom, he frowned at the sight that greeted him in the mirror. Dark circles surrounded eyes puffy and sore from tears, and his hair was a mess of tangles as he'd neglected to brush it. He bit his lip as he worked a comb through the worst of the knots. He'd only let it get so long because Otabek liked it that way, why the hell hadn't he cut it?  He gathered it up in one hand and considered finding the scissors, but no, he couldn't cut it, because _... because that would mean..._

He sternly focused on unraveling the tangle, and then on his shower, and actually felt halfway decent after. He returned to his room rather than face the others inside, and guiltily checked his phone for the first time in days. Messages from Mila, Yakov, Lilia, and... everyone. Everyone he knew, even indirectly, seemed to have sent him a text or an email, awkwardly apologizing for his loss, and offering to help him in non-specific ways. Even stupid JJ had sent condolences. It was oddly embarrassing, but comforting, in a strange way. Until he got to the oldest one, and his heart sunk in his chest. Otabek.

**Yuri, I know that I am probably the last person that you want to hear from right now, but I feel it is only right that I should say that I'm sorry for what you are going through. Your grandfather was a kind man. Stay strong.**

And that was all. So formal, so tense. So much more than he deserved. The last time he'd seen him, they had been on the podium, Yuri sneering down at him with his silver medal, seething from the bitter sting of rejection, humiliated by having been reduced to groveling, and not even getting his way after all of that. Otabek hadn't just ignored him, but made a point of it, staring straight ahead with a scowl, after he'd begged and pleaded and apologized until his throat was hoarse. He'd opened his mouth, meaning to say everything he'd been thinking while Otabek was right there next to him, forced to listen. He meant to say, _how could you do this? How could you leave me, when I only wanted to help you? I trusted you. I planned my future around you, and you left me. We were going to have a life together. I was going to tell you all about it, before you told me to go._ _You were going to win the gold, and I was going to make you mine forever._

What actually came out of his mouth was, "I've never loved you."

No one else would have been able to notice the shift in Otabek's expression. It was only in his eyes, and only for a second, a vindicating second that fueled Yuri's righteous anger. And then, they were separated, the crowd unaware that anything had changed.

Grandpa had always lectured him about burning bridges, hadn't he.

Tears stinging his eyes, he hesitated only a moment before typing a response. **You're not the last person I wanted to hear from. JJ already texted me.**   Humor was safe. He could say what he meant and say that he hadn't meant it, if he needed to. He startled as he saw that a response was being typed.

**I've thought of you every day.**

What the hell? How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this?

**If you need anything, tell me. I'll go to the ends of the Earth for it.**

Yuri bit back a laugh of disbelief. **You'd have to. I'm going to Hasetsu.** Why was he even telling him this?

 **I** **know now isn't the time, and I'm sorry for it, but I'd like to see you one last time. How long will you be in Hasetsu? Would it be okay to talk?**

Yuri took a deep breath. **You want to go to another country to talk to me.**

 **Yes.** Came the reply.

 **All right.** Yuri sent the text before he could change his mind.

 **Sleep well, Yura.**   And he was gone. Yuri clutched his knees to his chest, and took several deep breaths before rolling over and sobbing his confused emotions into his pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mama!" cried Victor, throwing his arms around Yuuri's flustered mother and spinning her around, making her laugh.

Yuri nodded a solemn greeting to Yuuri's father, who returned it with a little wave.  _Thank God these assholes have their own house now. Thank God that I'm staying here instead._

"Hello, Yurio. Did you have a good flight?" Asked Hiroko in careful, slow Japanese so that he could follow with ease. "I hope that you're hungry."

"It was an easy flight, thanks." he replied, "It's good to see you."

Mari yanked him away. "The usual place." She said, grabbing his suitcase. Once they were out of earshot, she lowered her voice. "Listen, I don't know what my brother is playing at, but your ex is here. I can get him to let you stay at theirs if that's a problem."

Yuri could feel his ears burning. Otabek was _here_. So close. "Er. It's ... okay. For now. We're going to talk about stuff."

"He's in the baths. You should have time to settle in." She replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

It took less than five minutes to unpack, and he paced nervously across the room a few times before collapsing on his futon. He checked every app on his phone, before typing Otabek's name into the browser, and clicking on one of the videos that he hadn't been able to make himself watch before now. Otabek wore a gorgeous costume, shining white with beaded lilies, and a bold red lining with jagged trim. Yuri couldn't place the classical music, but it was very much like him, bold but soft, in a minor key that made his heart ache. Every movement was flawless, executed with that grim determination that Yuri adored. Except... some of those movements were not like Otabek, at all. Some of them were directly referencing his own routines...

"Hey."

Yuri startled, not expecting to face him so soon. Otabek wore nothing but the robe he'd wrapped himself in after bathing, and Yuri's mouth nearly watered at how gorgeous he looked.

"Is this okay?" Otabek asked, quietly, hanging nervously in the doorway.

Yuri nodded, his throat closing up. Otabek crossed the distance, and hesitated for just a moment before brushing a strand of hair from his eyes, and tilting his chin up. Yuri shifted, and touched his shoulder, and sniffled as Otabek's arms closed around him, and his around Otabek. He stood there, head bent and face pressed against his neck, trying not to cry as Otabek's hand rubbed a comforting circle against his back. The logical part of him said that this was an illusion, that nothing could ever be the same. The rest of him, however, was caught up in the smell of his skin and the strength of his arms, and was loathe to pry himself from the feeling of safety and comfort. This was Otabek, his best friend, and somehow everything would be okay as long as he didn't let go.

"Shh, don't cry, sunflower." He murmured against him.  Yuri's chest ached at the nickname. He never did manage to catch up to Victor in height or breadth and had less than an inch on Yuuri, but still had a couple of inches on Otabek, who had lightly teased him for complaining about both growing taller and not being quite tall enough depending on his mood.  

Eventually, he had to let go, and Otabek sat beside him on the futon, as though everything were somehow normal again.  "So." Yuri began. "Talk."

Otabek uncharacteristically didn't meet his eyes as he spoke, his fingers picking nervously at the blanket. "It's selfish, but I had to see you again. I don't really have anything to say, except that I think of you every day and I couldn't stand the thought of you being alone right now. "

"You're the one who left." Yuri felt compelled to snap, bitterness rising in his chest.

"If I hadn't, you would have thrown away your career."

"It was one time!" Yuri protested.

"No, it wasn't. It was three. Don't think that I didn't notice. I know how you move, Yura, and I can tell when you're making mistakes on purpose. I know you know that I wanted the gold as much as you did. I don't want something I haven't earned fairly."

"You didn't have to go!" Yuri felt his voice rising. "Everyone in Kazakhstan was depending on you! You were supposed to win!"

"Why, Yura? Why should I win when you were better? Why should I take you down to build myself up? Why would you allow that? Why would you even think that I'd want that?"

"It was just one medal." Yuri whispered. "I didn't think that...I thought... it would be okay, to give it up for a year. I didn't think that you'd..."

"I'm very important to my country." He continued, a severe look on his handsome face.  "But you are important to the world. A lifetime from now, people will know your name. Novices will copy your moves. Who am I to destroy that? What you've worked for every day of your life since you can remember? And because you didn't have the confidence in me to win alone."

"It's not that! I wanted to be sure." He tugged at his hair, angrily. "I wanted it to be perfect. And then you threw everything away!"

"I did it for you."

"Bullshit! Bullshit!" Yuri stood over him. "If you wanted to do something for me, you'd have taken the damn gold! You'd have answered my calls, at the very least!"

Otabek backed up against the wall, digging his fingers into the futon. "I couldn't."

"I begged you! I said things I never would have! I left you fourteen messages, until your stupid cheap phone ran out of memory, and you _didn't care!"_

"...I erased them." Otabek muttered, looking down. "I never listened to them."

"What the fuck?" Yuri stomped his foot, the effect muffled by the thick futon. "Why?"

"Because I knew that I wouldn't be strong enough to leave if I did. You're my weakness, you know."

There was silence in the room, except for Yuri's heavy, angry breathing.

"Why did you do it, Yura?" His voice was small and miserable. "You did it three times. Why would you put me in that position? Why did I need to win it? Were you ashamed of me?"

"What? No!" Yuri's fingers balled themselves into fists. "I did it because I wanted you to be World Champion when I gave you my grandfather's ring." He huffed. "I didn't want to wait another year. I thought you loved me, and you made me beg, and you threw me away-" Yuri's voice broke, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

"You said you never loved me."

"And you believed me! Fucking unbelievable. You really are fucking stupid sometimes!" He snarled. To his surprise, Otabek chuckled to himself.

"Yeah. I guess I really am. " There was something uneasy in the tone. "I'm sorry, Yura. I didn't mean to open a wound when you're going through everything right now. It's just that ... I had an excuse to talk to you, and I took it, even though it was selfish..."

"Did you really love me?" Part of him was terrified of the answer, but he needed to hear it, either way.

"Yes. Of course."

"You came for me when I needed you." Yuri sunk down to the futon again. "I'm so lonely, Beka."

"Yura..." he said, in a warning tone, as Yuri pulled himself onto his lap, and pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just behind his ear.  "You're not thinking straight. It's not fair to you. We can't... we can't be. This way. Not anymore. Please." Each word was more unsure, more desperate. "I'll just hurt you again."

"Don't be an asshole." Yuri slid his hand under the flap of his robe.

Otabek closed his eyes. "Please, stop."

"Why?"

"Because we can't be together again."

"Why?" Yuri frowned.

"Because I'm ... " He took a shaky breath. "I'm very sick, Yura. I don't want you to see me when it gets worse. Not after what you're going through. "

"Sick how?" He asked, a chilling fear pooling in his stomach.

"Hanahaki." It was barely more than a whisper.

"Who is it?" Yuri's voice was calm, deadly quiet.

"Yura?"

"Who the _fuck_ is it, loverboy?" He hissed.

"I don't understand what you-"

"Was there someone else? Was that why you were so eager to go?" Each scenario his mind raised was worse than the last, and his vision was clouding with anger.

"There's never been anyone else, Yura. Not ever. Not like you. Never." Otabek met his eyes then, in the straightforward way that he was used to.

"But I've always loved-" Yuri broke off with a sob, clutching his arms around himself.

"I didn't know, Yura. I didn't know what was happening to me-"

He fell to the futon, shaking, pulling his body into a tight ball.

"Yura, please, it's all right. " Otabek tried.

"It's not! You're saying I killed you." Yuri whispered. "I-" he couldn't get out another word, but tucked himself up tighter, hiding his face between his knees. _No, no, no. Please, no._

"Yura." Otabek untangled him, and pulled him against himself, clutching him close as he cried.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually, Yuri ran out of tears, but was reluctant to let go of Otabek to wash his face. "I'm not leaving you." He managed to say. "Don't you dare leave Hasetsu without me."

Otabek nodded, defeated. "I'm sorry, Yura."

"If I... if I love you enough, could it..."

"I don't know. It's spread."

"Could you get the surgery?" He whispered.

Otabek was silent.

"Beka." Yuri forced his chin up to look him in the eyes.

"Would you?" He asked.

Yuri snarled at him. "I would have paid anything to forget you. "

"This morning, yes." Otabek gave him an appraising look, and Yuri looked down.

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to, but... if it's possible, you should. Please." _I can't live with myself otherwise._

Otabek sighed. "It's spread, Yura. I don't know if it's possible anymore. I didn't know what was happening to me and it happened quickly."

Yuri gripped him tightly, burying his face in his chest.

"We need to eat, Yuratchka." Otabek prodded him, gently. "We'll both feel better. And the baths will be good for you."

"I'm not leaving you." Yuri grumbled.

"Then I'll go again."

Yuri nodded, and let Otabek take charge of him. Otabek was always the practical one. Yuri wasn't even thinking of how his tear stained face might look to the rest of the family, never mind the guests. He let Otabek lead him to the bathroom and wipe his face with cold water, and followed him to the dining area. Mari gave him a curious look, but he simply took Otabek's arm and nodded at her. They ate and bathed together, and Yuri's eyes were on him the entire time. _I never deserved him, and now he's going to die. I killed him, and he's not even angry._ Even so, the food and bath made him feel much better; calmer, grounded, and certainly less lightheaded and tense than he had been.

Otabek agreed to stay with him, and returned to his room with his suitcase and two large bottles of sake. It was just like it had always been, the two of them shoehorned into this almost too small room as they'd been every visit, but never minding. He took two cups of sake like shots, grateful for the calming warmth it brought to his chest. Otabek's fingers tangled in his hair as they drank. The chilly air from outside was seeping in, and Yuri pulled another thick blanket around them.

"I've always liked it here." Yuri whispered, his heart heavy with thoughts of the beach wedding he'd never have.

"It makes me think of you." Otabek responded, shyly pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "But so do a lot of things..."

"You're a sap." Yuri sighed, refilling his glass.

"Only for you." Completely serious, not even deadpanning. Just like him, really.

"Beka..." Yuri began, as they started on the second bottle, "Why did you believe... what I said. Was I ever... did you ever have any reason to doubt it?" he finished, in a rush. _It wasn't enough. It's my fault. I've always been selfish._

"No." Otabek said, without hesitation. "It's... stupid, you know. You were fine. You were always the best."

"What, then?" Yuri asked. "What was it?"

Otabek blushed, and Yuri knew it was more than the alcohol. This was pure embarrassment. "I guess... It was always my worst fear, you know. That you'd get bored. That you'd realize I wasn't as cool as you thought I was."

"What?" Yuri twisted in the covers to face him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I had it _bad_ , Yura. I was only thirteen and you were perfect. Everything you did was perfect. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And I wanted you to notice me, so I kept trying to do things my body couldn't do, and then pray that you _weren't_ noticing me, because I was tripping over my own feet." He frowned.

"Beka, I know this. It's fine. Really. We were just little kids."

"I wanted to... I guess I wanted to _be_ you, for a long time. I wanted to be your friend, and I watched all of your Juniors performances, and... you were the best one. You were better than some of the seniors. And I thought you must be rich to be so good, you must have half a dozen coaches, because it was so hard for me with... with _nothing_ , really.  I don't know why my mother tolerated it. She went without a lot of things to pay for my obsession. I mean... she did everything she could, but I've also done some not exactly legal things to pay for my skating, you know. But then you had an interview, and I found out that you didn't have much, either, just.... um, and... I knew that I wanted to talk to you. I thought you were this untouchable force of nature, and you turned out to be a lot like me."

Yuri noted how he reeled himself in before mentioning his grandfather. _Thank you, Beka_.

"I had to skate on the same ice as you. I pushed myself to be there. I wanted you to smile at me, you know. Just for me! And I took a risk and you got on my bike and I kept thinking, _this is too good to be true._ I don't think you realized how beautiful you were becoming, you know." His voice thickened, and grew lower. "With your eyes, and your hair, and your little kitten tongue..."

Yuri bit his lip. "You've never mentioned that last one."

"God, Yura. Your _mouth_. Every photo with just a little flick of your tongue. It drove me _crazy_."

"I can do that." Yuri whispered, placing down his cup and trailing this tongue along the shell of his ear. Otabek didn't stop him this time, but closed his eyes and leaned back, letting him pull open his robe to kiss and lick slowly down his throat, and lick a delicate line around a nipple before pulling his soft nub of flesh between his teeth, sucking it gently. Otabek gasped, and he mirrored the action on his other side before slipping fully under the covers and pressing on his stomach with his hands  for Otabek to lie back. He was hard already, and Yuri took a moment to admire the thickness of his cock before touching just the tip of his tongue to the slit, and smiling at the gasp he heard. He slowly swiped the flat of his tongue across the underside, before taking the head in his mouth and twirling circles and figure eights around the tip, and he grasped Otabek's hips to steady him.  Already he was hearing some of his favorite Kazakh swear words. He grasped him firmly by the base and pumped, firmly sucking just the head in a steady rhythm, teasing with the tip of his tongue.

"Yura!" He gasped.

 Yuri pulled back. "Where do you want to come?" he purred, but quickly realized that Otabek hadn't been warning him about _that._ His lover was gasping for breath, choking. Yuri hurried to him, helping him sit up on his hands and knees as he gasped. Horrified, he watched him purge himself of five crushed red petals pooling in saliva. They looked like such insignificant things... Yuri pounded on his back with the flat of his hands as Otabek fumbled with his suitcase, retrieving  an inhaler.  He helped him sit up as Otabek took a deep drag on it, and then another.

"I'm sorry, Yura." He choked out, still breathing hard.

"No! Don't. Just... just breathe. Please." Yuri rubbed his back as he spoke.

Otabek took deep breaths until he seemed to have recovered, and  looked ruefully at the petals. "I thought it was the skin of my throat the first time it happened. I felt like I'd ripped my insides out."  He winced at Yuri's horrified expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Please. It's not the most awkward sex we've had."

This got a small smile from Otabek. "The shower in Canada?"

"The time Lilia came home early." He corrected.

"But I _fell_ in that shower."

"And I still thought you were cool." Yuri said, gently.

"We can finish, if we take it slow." He offered. He was still half hard, despite almost choking to death. It was strangely endearing.

"All right." Yuri nodded, closing his eyes as he felt Otabek's hands trace the lines of his body under his robe, and grasp his dick firmly, pressing it against his own as he began to stroke. It had been so long, and yet, every touch was so familiar. Yuri let himself get lost in the sensations of their bodies pressed tight , until the sublime pressure coiled inside of him and he jerked his hips, urging Otabek to go faster, rougher. He lasted a moment or two longer that Otabek, who was already cleaning him off when he came down from the blissful high of his orgasm.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worriedly.

"I am now. I'm ... sorry you had to see that."

"Don't." Yuri admonished, stroking his hair back gently. Otabek's eyes were already drooping. "Just relax, _zhanym._ I'm here." Otabek mumbled something incoherent. Yuri tightened his arms around him possessively, alternating between kissing his hair and stealing sips from the bottle. He fell into an uneasy half-sleep, plagued by dreams of red flowers.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Yurotchka!"_

_"I'm here!" Yuri called, running toward his grandfather's voice. The ground was uneven dirt and mostly uphill._

_"Yura!" Otabek's voice joined him, and Yuri cursed as his foot caught on something, a tree root or a dead vine, and he stumbled. Pushing himself up with his hands, he struggled up._

_"Yura!"_

_The faster he ran to them, the more distant the voices became. "Wait for me! Shit!" He was losing his shoe as it stuck in the mud._

Yuri awoke annoyed from the dream, legs tangled one of the blankets he'd made a nest of. It was still dark, and a quick glance at his phone told him that dawn was still over an hour away. Unable to stay still, he got up to use the toilet and splash his face with cold water.  He quietly made his way back to bed, resuming his place beside Otabek, who was sleeping peacefully. _He's so beautiful. You'd never know he was sick,_ he thought, admiring his features in the moonlight. He sighed, turning so that he was spooned against him. Otabek shifted in his sleep, curling closer. Unable to sleep, he turned his attention to his phone, searching for information about Hanahaki.

It wasn't something that happened often where he came from. It seemed to thrive in tropical climates. He was aware that it existed, an awful disease, a parasite that seemed to use a person's mind against them, feeding on despair. Sometimes it came up in a romantic movie. Yuri was beginning to think it ought to be contained to horror films. The information he found was basic and raised more questions than it answered. The photos, too... close up pictures of red petals and raw flesh. There were few treatments discussed, and most of them seemed to focus on controlling the symptoms for long time sufferers; some people, the luckier ones, seemed to succumb quickly, choking to death with their smothered lungs. The current thinking was that the spores entered the respiratory system, and metastasized to other locations and organs. One case photo of a vinelike growth that had dislodged a man's eyeball made Yuri almost retch. He clicked out of that screen quickly, and kept searching, despite knowing that there was no way that he'd be able to Google a cure.

Surgery was possible, if detected in time. It had a high rate of recurrence. By the time the awful thing had set down roots in the lungs, it usually had tendrils into the brain, as well; and full excision almost guaranteed damage to memory function and emotional responses. The only positive thing he could find was that sometimes, it seemed that a patient could beat it into submission with their own mind and emotions, as long as they remained strong enough to fight. A few people had lasted over a decade. Many more despaired and died. It was, frustratingly, one of the things that "is not yet fully understood", in the words of a flaky website that sold nutritional supplements.

An ad popped up frequently, following him from page to page. It was a picture of a small building behind torii gates, and Yuri parsed the writing as something about 'shrine' and 'flower'. He hesitated only a moment before clicking, scanning over the text and picking out what characters he knew. One familiar word stood out in particular.

 _This place is in Hasetsu?_ _I've never heard of it. But why would I have paid attention to it, even if I had..._ The rest of the website was useless, no links, no real information. Still, he couldn't get it out of his mind. The sky was lightening, casting a pale gray into the room. He hesitated as he considered getting up. _He promised he wouldn't leave without me. It should only take a little while_ , he reasoned, as he carefully slid out of the futon, replacing himself with a pillow that Otabek gripped in his sleep. _I can't sleep anyway._ _It can't hurt. It'll be like lighting a candle. It's stupid, but maybe it will help._ He paused to press a kiss to his temple, and to make sure that he remained sound asleep.

He quickly dressed, and left through the side door. The streets were deserted, and thick with misty fog. The only evidence of life was the distant call of the sea birds. It took less than ten minutes to find the side street that led to the shrine. _Do shrines have actual hours? Can I go in? Fuck it. Victor would just go in. This town puts up with him, after all..._

Yuri stepped through the gate, and up the little stone stairway, frowning at the red flowers along the way that reminded him of his dreams. He walked along until he got to the building itself, which seemed to blend into its surroundings despite its steep sloping roof. Hesitating just a moment, he tried the door, which slid open with no resistance. He slipped off his shoes and blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.  Soon he saw what he was looking for: two stone foxes with a raised bowl between them, holding several assorted coins. Red petals were scattered around them.

"Hey." He said quietly, as he opened his wallet and put what money he had in the bowl,  "I don't know if you can do anything about it, but I need your help. I need Otabek to get better, okay? I mean... even if you can just give him a little luck. " He closed his eyes with a sigh. "He can't accept what's happening, because I can't. He has to fight, okay?" He bit his lip, remembering Otabek's free skate, the lilies on his jacket and its blood red lining, jagged and crushed like the petals he'd hidden from the world. _Fucking lilies. He was skating his own funeral. And dancing my part in it, too. No one understood it, but it's plain as day. I never watched it. I should have watched it when he did it. I should have figured it out sooner. I should have known._

Yuri wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Just some luck, please?"

"Luck is expensive." Said a voice behind him. Yuri startled, and spun around to see a young woman in a drab kimono. "Do you still want to talk?"


	6. Chapter 6

It took a moment for what was wrong to fully register in Yuri's mind. "How are you speaking Russian?" he asked. Not the accented, halting Russian that Yuuri spoke, either, but like a girl from Moscow.

"Is that what you hear?" asked the girl, dismissively. She looked much younger than him, now that she'd stepped closer, and into the light. She wore no makeup, and her hair was pulled back into a careless bun. "You hear what you need to." She shrugged. "My name is Kyouko. I live here."

"My name is Yuri." He offered, suspiciously. "I'm visiting, obviously. Do your parents run this place?"

"My parents are dead. That's why I'm here. I came looking for miracles. I found them, too. Just not the ones I wanted. Do you want to talk?" Her voice was firm and precise, like her words.

 _No,_ thought Yuri, instinctively. "Sure." He replied. He followed her across the room, where she gestured for him to sit at a low table, and poured him a cup of tea. He accepted it, but didn't drink. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled fairy tales about people going missing in strange places after eating or drinking; and though it seemed silly, his instincts told him to not take any chances.  "Are you going to explain?"

"About the language? I suppose so. The Temple is translating. I'm its mouthpiece. I came here five years ago, after my father's funeral. The post was empty, so to speak, and now I can't leave. If I try, it's like hitting an invisible wall.  Don't worry, " she added, seeing Yuri's tense expression, "You're free to go. The position is filled."

"What does it want from you?" Yuri bristled, casting his eyes around the room. He knew that he should be questioning this, but it was too elaborate for a prank. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, as well. This wasn't normal, and his curiosity was piqued. That, and he was suddenly rather terrified to move.

Kyouko sighed. "I don't know. To be taken care of, I guess. But you came here for a reason. You came asking for luck."

"My- someone I love is dying." His voice cracked slightly on the last word. Saying it aloud was too much, it made it sound too real.   _My whole world is dying. Grandpa, Beka, soon I'll have nothing left._

"Only, you are already lucky." She sighed, "Luck follows you like an aura. "

"Fucking does it." Sneered Yuri.  

Kyouko nodded. "I can see it, you know. I learned to see a lot of things these past few years."

"How is that supposed to help?" Yuri grumbled. "And if you're trying to sell me some extra luck, I already left all the money I've got on me in the bowl."

"Those aren't really the Kami." Kyouko said, as Yuri's eyes drifted to the two stone foxes.

"Obviously. I'm not stupid. They just represent the-"

"Not like that, no. I mean to say, the true Kami were driven out years ago. They were enshrined here after the war, when there was an epidemic of Hanahaki. They were supposed to protect the people of Hasetsu."

"Didn't they, though? There's no epidemic now."   _I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation. She's insane. Why am I playing along?_

"Hanahaki thrives on despair. There are bad times for people, and those are good times for Hanahaki. It's more than just a disease, you see. Years ago, people said that it fell from the sky, from another world. Others said that it has always been here, waiting just outside of perception, waiting to strike. Later, people were able to surgically remove the lesions and treat the symptoms, but that doesn't mean that the old stories are completely without truth. It's got a mind of its own, and it's a powerful one. It drove away the Kami that were enshrined here. It took over. "  Kyoko's hands tightened on her cup.

Yuri felt a cold shudder through his body. _No, this isn't a prank. Something's here. Something's looking at us!_

 "You are going to ask me exactly what this is, and the truth is that I don't know. It don't know if it is a person, a thing, a god. I do know that it has trapped people in this building before me. I've read things that they have written and discovered. They gained strange powers while they stayed here, but never lived long. It was as though they were burned by the power here. Or perhaps were drained of their life once all they could feel was despair. "

"How many were there before you?" Yuri asked, cautiously. He could still feel eyes on him, eyes he couldn't see.

"Eleven that I know of. Those bushes of red flowers grow where they are buried. I saw it happen myself, when I buried the last girl."

Yuri placed down his cup, suddenly feeling nauseous. "Why are you telling me any of this?"

"Because I don't want to die." She shrugged. "So I called out, and you came. I think we could help each other, if you were willing to make a deal."

Yuri didn't like the sound of that, but nodded.

"I can control things, outside of the Temple. To a degree. I've thought about this for a long time, and I think that I can turn back time, if you let me take some of your luck to do it."

"How can you _take_ luck?"

"I can... redirect it. Certain people can, even if they don't know they are doing it. They can give their luck to other people. Some other people naturally attract it like a magnet. It's a balancing act. When you use luck, it comes from somewhere else. Someone else gets shorted. You have a lot of it, so I'm betting you can spare some. "

"I don't feel like I've got a lot."

"Haven't you had a lot of good things happen in your life?" Kyouko asked, with a small frown.

"Yeah. I've _worked_ for all of them. _Earned_ it . I'm not like, like someone who was born with-a- a whole family, you know, or a lot of money. "  He sneered.

"Many people would argue that you've gotten pretty far with your limited means." She shrugged.

"What the fuck do you know about me? I got where I did because I never let people push me around. Because I skated until my feet bled and never complained. "

"And surely, because someone loved you very much, and made sure that you could?"

Yuri looked away, thinking of the gold medal he'd given to his grandpa after the Olympics. It was his most prized accomplishment, proof of his worth, proof that all of those small sacrifices that added up to so much were actually _justified_. He'd felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he'd seen the pride in his eyes. He'd worked himself nearly to the breaking point for years, planned and practiced and collapsed in tears, some nights. How much luck did it take to win Olympic gold? Surely, he could do it on his own? He'd always assumed that was the case, but a feeling of dread was settling into his stomach.

"...if you take my...luck... would things be different?" He asked, quietly.

"I won't need all of it. Still, yes. Things will be different. I don't know how. I just know that I need your help. I need for you to be there, when I come to the Temple. I need for you to tell me to not go inside! I could say that things could be better or could be worse, but I can't just stay here, waiting to die, knowing that this is all that I'm ever going to do or have. Even if the alternative is terrible, it's ... something I don't know for sure, so I can hope. Don't you feel the same?"

_I could save him._

"And all I'd have to do is lock the door on this place, and tell you to go away?"

_It's my fault. I can save him. I have to. It's my fault._

"Yes! Just give me your hand!"

Yuri reached out, and then drew it back. "Aren't there consequences to that? If I tell you to piss off, some other girl will wander in here eventually and take your place. Don't you feel bad about that?"

"Don't you feel bad about destroying an entire universe just so that _he_ lives?" She countered.

Yuri bit his lip. _I shouldn't do this. But... I killed him._

"Yuri..."

_And yeah, maybe I am being selfish, too. Maybe I can't live my life without him. Knowing that I had a chance... that we had a chance..._

"Give me your hand."

Yuri took a deep breath, and clasped her small hand in his own.


	7. Chapter 7

Yuri felt disoriented, as though he'd woken from a dream. When he fully came to his senses, he was sprawled out across the ground outside of the shrine. "Kyouko?" he called, sitting up. There was no answer. He pushed back his hair, and froze when his fingers slid through too little of it.

 _What?_ He tugged on the ends of his hair, which refused to extend past his shoulders.

"Kyouko!" He yelled, standing. He was wearing a hoodie he hadn't seen in recent memory. He had his bag with him, somehow. He dug for his phone. _She did it. She fucking did it!_

As his hand clasped on the familiar shape, he noticed a girl watching him from the gate. She was smaller, younger, not as confident in her movements, but her face was unmistakable. "Kyouko!" He called. For a moment, the girl froze, and looked as though she were about to turn and run, but something in her eyes stopped her; probably the trait that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, he mused.

"My name is Yuri. We need to talk." He began, approaching her. She looked like she was about to panic, and shook her head. She gestured wildly with her hands. "Do you speak Japanese?" she tried.

_Shit. It doesn't work out here, and I'm sure as hell not letting her in there._

"A little." He managed, switching over. "I am your friend from, from, shit. I came to tell you that you can't go inside the shrine. It's bad. You'll get hurt."

"I am going-" _(what? slow down!)_ "-For my parents."

"No! No, you're not. It's bad. No good. EVIL." Yuri fumbled with his phone, searching for the words he couldn't remember.

"I promised you would not go inside. Dangerous. Promise me." He tried, once he'd found his dictionary. "Do you speak English?" he asked, desperately.

"Maybe, a little, maybe." She replied, flustered.

"Something bad is inside. If you go in, it will trap you. Kill you. You have to leave. Don't come back." He gripped her shoulders. "Please. Okay? "

She gave him a calculating look. "Who are you?"

"A friend. I know that you're looking for help. I'm- I'm sorry about your parents. You'll only find trouble here. _Please._ "

She hesitated a moment long enough for him to worry, before nodding. "All right. Thank you, Yuri. I will not go inside."  She snatched the phone from his hands, and returned it a moment later, with a new entry in his contact list. "Friends." She said, with a weak laugh. And then, she walked away, and the future changed forever.

Yuri exhaled a deep, shaking breath, and dug in the front pocket of his bag until he found a marker. He consulted his app briefly before scrawling, DANGER NO ENTRY on the door. He repeated it in English for good measure, and then on each side of the shrine.

Once the initial wave of relief washed over him, more practical concerns came to mind. He knew where he was, but _when_ was he? Was he supposed to be in Hasetsu at all? Was he supposed to be in Russia? His phone was taking too long to load things. How had he ever lived with this piece of shit?

_October 31, 2018_

He scrolled through his emails to jog his memory. Yes! He was supposed to be here! And Otabek, too, just off his flight from Canada, where he'd taken gold. _Beka's birthday. Oh God- tonight is The Night._ He gingerly opened his bag, knowing what he'd find there. Vanilla scented lube, tiger print fuzzy handcuffs, banana flavored condoms. _God, those tasted awful. I'd rather just swallow._ He felt a wave of embarrassment pass over him at his younger self's exuberant ideas about sex novelties, and decided that none of this stuff would see the light of day- except perhaps the fuzzy handcuffs. _Maybe._

He checked his banking app, and was pleased to see that he had access to his account. Things were looking up. _I'd better hurry. Don't want to be late to losing my virginity._ He laughed aloud at the thought, and skipped outside the gates.  Then, feeling daring, he walked to the little sleazy store on the edge of town and upgraded his supplies. By the time he arrived at the onsen, it was late afternoon. He let himself in, and went to his room, where he found Otabek asleep on top of one of the two futons. He hadn't even undressed, or opened his bag.

 _He's exhausted. I wonder how long he's been here?_ He carefully got in behind Otabek, pulling a blanket over them both. _He's such a good person. I'm going to make this up to him. I'm going to fix it, make him happy. This time, I'm going to deserve him._ Yuri snaked an arm around him, and sighed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Otabek made a small, happy sound in his sleep. Yuri stayed still until he felt him begin to awaken.

"Hey, champion." He murmured in his ear, following it with a light brush of his lips.

"Yura." He sighed, turning over to embrace him. "I've missed you so much..."

Yuri enjoyed several slow kisses, before pulling slightly back. "How do you feel?"

"Better. But still sore." He admitted. "I slept on the plane, but you know how that is. It's just made me stiffer."

"You're getting to be an old man, it's expected. You'll feel fine once we get you in the baths."

"I'm not old." He grumbled.

"Yeah, you are. Get up, you old fart. You need some real food, too." _You'll need the energy_ , he thought, but bit it back, and tried to hide a smirk.

_I'll do it right, this time._


	8. Chapter 8

Yuri worked out the knots in Otabek's neck and shoulders in the bath, earning a raised eyebrow from Victor when he could be bothered to rip his attention away from Yuuri. _What's with him? Don't we do this all the time? Is this the first time?_ Otabek leaned against the edge of the bath, blissfully relaxed between the steaming water and Yuri's hands. Yuri glared at Victor across the water, until he smiled and went back to complimenting Yuuri. _That's right, old man._

"Give me your gross feet." He yanked on Otabek's leg, almost sending him under the water, and went to work on the delicate muscles of his foot.

"You don't have to do this, Yura." He protested, but didn't stop him.

_That's right, he was shy about stuff like this at first. It's kind of adorable._

"I'm hungry." He announced, once he'd taken care of both of his legs up to the knee. "Let's ditch these assholes." He climbed out and dried off, opting to get dressed instead of lounge in his robe as there was a bit of a chill in the air.

"No fooling around in the onsen, perverts!" He called across the bath, causing Yuuri to break out in laughter.  Victor's face was the picture of wounded innocence.

 _God, and they're not even drunk for the night yet._ Part of him had to admit, only to himself, that it could be fun when they were, though.

Dinner was different now that he could understand bits and pieces of Mari and Hiroko's conversations without them knowing that he could. _'So cute, he's got a little boyfriend?' Really, you guys? And why am I blushing? I fucking know I've got a boyfriend!_   _And he's not little!_

"Yura." Otabek began, once the dishes were away and the alcohol was coming out, "It's a nice night. Will you walk with me?"

Yuri nodded, and followed him outside. Otabek slipped his hand into his, and entwined their fingers. _God, I've missed him so much._ He tightened his grip in response. They walked in comfortable silence down the trail to the beach, and stopped at the edge of the rocks where they could gaze out at the moonlight dancing on the calm waves.

"Yura." Otabek turned to look him in the eyes. It was so strange, now, having to look up to meet his gaze. _Shit. I haven't had my last growth spurt. That ached like hell. I'm going to be a fucking disaster on ice. Like the first time, but backwards._ He didn't have much time to ponder this, however, as Otabek's expression was demanding his full attention. It was a curious look of determination tinged with nervousness, one that he associated with the moments before a competition.

"I know it's difficult to have a relationship like ours." He began, slowly. "We're apart so much. Even if we talk or text every day, It feels like it all adds up to so much less. Even if I always think of you, it isn't enough. So maybe that's why I feel like we haven't... developed as much as we would have if we were always together. And I never wanted to do this over the internet. So, that's why it's taken me this long. I just. I want you to know that I'm serious, Yura. About you. About us. It's not just... dating, for me. It never was. Since we were kids, I think. I love you." He actually flinched, as though he was expecting Yuri to slap him, or yell. "I love you so much, I feel it in my pulse."

Yuri felt his face break into a wide grin. "It's about time. I love you too, Beka." He pulled Otabek down into a deep kiss, and laughed at the look of relief in his eyes. "We can't do that over Skype." he teased, before pressing more kisses against his jawline. "I should have said it first. I'm such an asshole. I should have told you everything. Beka. I've never felt like this about anyone. I never want to feel this way about anyone else. " He whispered. His fingers tightened in Otabek's shirt.

"Oh, Yura... I am _very_ serious. I'll find a way for us to be together. After the Olympics." he sighed. "There's too much to do until then to think about it. I don't want to distract you with all of this, I just couldn't stand the thought of waiting for the off season to say it, when I have you right here."

_Shit! The fucking Olympics! How the fuck am I going to be ready in time? I mean, it isn't like... like the BIG Olympics. MY Olympics. It's the one I got bronze. But still! I want that bronze! Fuck that, I want silver! I want gold!_

"Is this okay?" Otabek asked, gently. Yuri quickly changed his expression, stuffing away his anxieties.

"Yeah. It's more than okay." He hugged Otabek tightly. "I, um. I was planning to tell you something, too. But you kind of stole my thunder. In a good way." He added, with a shaky laugh.

"What is it?" Otabek looked down at him in concern, as he pushed the hair away from his eyes.

"I've been thinking about this, and I want to go all the way with you tonight." He grinned up at his boyfriend's flustered smile, Otabek's eyes shining like he'd won a lottery.

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it. Planning it, in fact. And all because you won't sext or do stuff over Skype."

"Not before we've done it properly!"

"Well, get ready to be knocked out, champion. Then you'll have to cyber fuck me once a week!"

They were both laughing, and Yuri felt his panic about his skating take a back seat to the situation at hand.

"So, maybe have a drink and go to bed early?" He traced his finger along the collar of Otabek's shirt, where skin met fabric.

"Yeah." Agreed Otabek, his eyes already darkening with lust.

 _I was so nervous last time, but he was so gentle._ Yuri felt his chest swelling with love. _I know what he likes this time._

It took mere moments to snatch a bottle and close themselves up in the small bedroom. Yuri stripped down, and stretched, arching his back.

"Shit, Yura. You're beautiful." Otabek breathed, taking in the sight.

"Beka, you saw me naked less than two hours ago. " Yuri pointed out. "And that wasn't even the first time."

Otabek 's ears were getting red. "That's different. It's not polite to stare in the baths."

"So you didn't?" Yuri exclaimed. He'd taken every opportunity to ogle Otabek, though not as openly as Victor and Yuuri did to each other.

"No!" he laughed, nervously. "What if someone looked at me looking at you?"

"Wow." Yuri grinned. " _I_ looked. Why do you think I've been thinking about this so much?" He lifted a leg and bent in a deep stretch, smirking when he heard the hitch in Otabek's breath. "You like that, huh." He changed positions, keeping eye contact.

"Yeah." His voice deepened. "Let your hair all the way down."

Yuri complied, regretting that he hadn't the length he was used to yet. "So, how do you want to do it? What's your favorite way?" _As if I don't know._

Otabek bit his lip. "Yura, I... I've never done this. And you've never... I guess we'll have to find out."

_What? He never told me that last time! I took his virginity?_

"You've got to have some idea. You like this." Yuri spun, somehow managing a few graceful steps around the futons.

"I do like to watch." He mused. "Er. There was this time, in America. In the locker room. Some of the guys there would get themselves off, and watch each other. Nothing hands on. Never mind, this is weird."

"Yeah, it is." Said Yuri, trying and failing to imagine whipping out his dick in front of Victor and Georgi. "You can watch whenever you want. Maybe, you want to touch instead?"

Otabek obliged, placing his hands on Yuri's waist and letting them trail down his hips, before cupping his erection in his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and Yuri couldn't stop himself from bucking into it.

"Get those clothes off." He whispered, reaching for his waistband, wondering what he'd want. Once he'd stripped bare, Yuri pulled him onto one of the futons and kissed him, pressing their bodies tight, encouraging his hands to wander. "I got you a present." He added, pulling the shopping bag free from his backpack.

"Lube. How thoughtful." Otabek chuckled.

"There's something else at the bottom."

"Condoms?"

"Under that, asshole."

Otabek pulled out the thin black collar and arched an eyebrow. Yuri took it from him, and fastened it around his boyfriend's neck, giving a gentle tug on the little silver ring on the front. "Okay, so maybe it was more of a present for me." He shrugged. "You're _mine_ , Otabek Altin." He hissed, and felt Otabek's dick twitch and bounce against him. "All mine."

"Yura." He sighed, mouthing the word against his lips. "I've been yours for so many years."

 _Shit, it's hard to last when he gets soppy like this. I need him inside me._ Yuri pulled away, positioning himself on his hands and knees, knowing that this way, he could go fast and deep.

"I want to see your face, Yura." Otabek complained, because, of course he would. Yuri wasted no time in rolling over and lifting up his legs.

"Get me ready. Please." He locked his ankles around Otabek's shoulders, as the other hurried to open the condoms and coat his fingers with the thick lube Yuri now knew to buy.

"Do you want me to take it?" Otabek asked, eyeing Yuri's strained erection. "I don't mind."

"I know you don't. But I think maybe you'd like this a little more." _And I've been dying for it,_ he added to himself.

Otabek was quiet, now that he was gently fingering him. It was intense, how he focused so clearly on him during sex, as though nothing else in the world mattered. Yuri was writhing by the time he had two fingers in. "Hurry, Beka."

He gasped as he felt the head of his cock slide into him, after so long, after thinking he'd never have this again. He pressed down onto the thickness of it, lifting his hips.

"Does it hurt?" whispered Otabek.

"You'd never hurt me." Yuri twisted his hips in a circular motion, until he found the angle just to the edge of his sweet spot, wanting to last.  He concentrated on not making too much noise. While he tended to get louder during sex, Otabek grew quieter the more he focused, the closer he came to the edge. Otabek took his cock in his hand, and pumped it in time with his own thrusts.

"Yura, my Yura." It was barely a whisper, and soon, his body stiffened under Yuri's hands.

"Harder." He whispered, gripping Otabek's fist, and groaned when his grip tightened. _"Harder."_ He insisted, bucking into his tight, strong hand. He gave himself permission to let go.

Nothing was like the bliss of an orgasm under Otabek. Yuri came to his senses with tears in his eyes, and Otabek gently kissing them away.

"Yura, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm with you." He fondly pushed back Otabek's damp hair. "You're my best friend." He managed, weakly.

"A bit more, now?" Otabek asked, his voice soft with love.

"Yeah. You're everything, Beka." He gave a playful tug on the collar, and yawned.


	9. Chapter 9

Letting Otabek go at the airport was more difficult than Yuri could have imagined. He put on a brave face until he was out of sight, and stubbornly held in his tears. His every instinct screamed at him to stay close, to not let him out of his sight, a frantic feeling of nervous energy swirling inside his chest. _He'll be safe. He'll be safe._ It had never felt like this before. He'd been upset, of course, but not afraid. _Don't be stupid. He'll be safe. You'll see him soon._

Now, sitting in his own plane, the anxious thoughts turned to Moscow. _I'm so afraid that I'm crazy, that I'll go home and find it empty, that he'll still be dead. They would have stopped me, wouldn't they? Victor and Yuuri wouldn't let me go to Moscow if he was dead._ He wasn't used to his nerves being like this. He wished that Otabek was still with him, his calm presence soothing his fears. He snuggled deeper into the hoodie he'd taken from him that morning, that still smelled of his skin and shampoo, and gazed out the window at the wisps of clouds.

His anxiety festered until he was out of the airport, and didn't stop until he saw the familiar figure of his grandfather waiting for him. Dropping his bags, he ran to him, tears in his eyes. He cried out, launching himself into his arms, gripping him tightly against himself. He was real, he was solid, he was _alive._

"Yuratchka." He pulled him away after several minutes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

_I don't care how much I have to give up. This is worth it. It's worth it... but I'm scared, now._

"Homesick." Yuri sniffled, pulling himself together. "Missed you."

 His grandfather chuckled. "Let's get you home, then."  He walked Yuri back to his bags, and took one back with him, stowing it in the back of the familiar old car.

"You grew again." He said, as they drove. "And you're too skinny."

"Then feed me." Yuri whined, as his grandfather ruffled his hair and grinned. It was so easy to revert and be the baby, so easy to fall back into this comfortable role where he wasn't the one doing the worrying for the both of them.

The familiar scent of his childhood home set him at ease, evidence of all of his favorite foods cooking hanging tantalizingly in the air. Yuri ate everything placed before him, and then some.

"Every time I see you, you grow again." Nikolai grumbled.

"You could move to St. Petersburg." Yuri blurted out, before he'd realized he'd spoken at all. 

"I've lived here for over thirty years." He protested.

 _He's got a life here,_ Yuri thought, guiltily. _Friends. You don't have to be his entire life anymore. I do nothing but train, he'd be lonely in St. Petersburg._

"Still... I worry about being away so much." He frowned. "I'm going to buy you a cell phone."

Nikolai shrugged. "I don't need fancy things. I've gotten along fine without it. I told you this last time."

"It's not fancy. I mean. I'll get you one that's easy to use. But I want you to have one. In case something bad happens. " He felt his throat tightening. "So you can call for help. Even a few minutes counts sometimes." _If I had done this before, would it have helped?_

His grandfather gave him an inquiring look. "If it makes you feel better. But nothing expensive." He insisted.

"You have to promise to keep it with you. And keep it charged. Even at night. Especially at night." Yuri's voice was growing frantic.

"I will." He replied, firmly, to ease his distress.

 Yuri deflated in relief.

"You aren't yourself, Yuratchka." He set a cup of tea in front of him. "What's on your mind?"

Yuri shook his head.

"I am proud of you no matter what. The Olympics, they are just one more medal. You have so many."

_He thinks it's about that._

"I'm just nervous. Sorry." He sipped his tea, and then reached into his bag. "I brought you candy from Japan. " He spilled the plastic bag out on the table between them.

Nikolai sifted through large pile of colorful wrappers, and selected one. "And chocolates from Kazakhstan." He noted. Yuri felt heat rise in his cheeks, and hid behind his tea cup with a noncommittal hum.

"I have something for you, as well." He rose from his seat, and returned with a cardboard box. "You are old enough to appreciate this, now."

The box held a stack of old photographs, and a smaller wooden box with a painted ballerina on the lid. He recognized it as belonging to his grandmother. He remembered thinking that it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen as a child, and was a bit saddened to see now that it was nothing more than cheap wood and chipped paint.

"Grandma's box." He picked up the photos, and began to sift through them. "I don't really remember her." He confessed, sadly.

"You can see her here." He pointed to the photo in his hand. "She loved you so much. But you were just a baby, of course you wouldn't remember."

Yuri looked through the faded pictures. How handsome and young his grandfather was, how happy his grandmother seemed, smiling and joking in most of the photos. He shuffled quickly past pictures of his mother, a young, pale girl who resembled him a bit too much for comfort, but felt his fingers freeze on an old shot of his grandfather bent on the ice, holding her tiny, chubby hands in his own as he guided her safely across a lake.

"Did she like skating?" He asked, breaking the unspoken rule of not mentioning her.

Nikolai sighed. "Yes. But not like you. You, I had to drag off the ice."

Yuri felt the thick gloom settle between them, and wanted to apologize, but couldn't find the words.

"Yuratchka, she was not right in the head. These things happen."

"I know _." 'Was', as though she still wasn't out there, somewhere. Maybe she's not. She could be dead for all we know, and we won't, unless she decides to let us._

"It isn't her fault that God made her like this." _Yes, but she should take her medicine. I wasn't enough for her to do that. She'd rather do...whatever it is she's doing right now, than admit that there's something wrong with her, and stay with us._

"I know."

"But out of my pain came my happiness." He said, fondly, giving him a rare smile.

Yuri placed the photos back, and opened the wooden box. It was filled to the brim with jewelry, mostly cheap stuff, that had belonged to his mother and grandmother. Nestled in the corner were his grandparents' wedding rings, shining gold among the tacky paste jewels. He slipped them onto his finger. The smaller one would barely go past his knuckle, the larger one hung loose.

"I had hoped to give those to your mother, someday. But she was too wild." He sighed. "You will have to bring them to be polished and adjusted. You are still growing, and I think, perhaps mine is too big for him."

Yuri was quiet, not certain how to respond. _It didn't happen this way, last time. Does that matter? Did something else change?_

"You think I'm too old to notice things, hmm? Or perhaps too out of touch?" A smile glinted in his eyes, but didn't reach his lips. "I approve of your Kazakh boy, but you should wait a few years. You are both so young yet."

 _Thank you, Grandpa._ "You don't think that he's too wild, then?" He asked, with a small smirk.

"No, he is steady when it matters." He said, firmly. "Though perhaps saying that might discourage you?"

_"Grandpa."_

"You are not like your mother, though. You'll have a good life."  _Only because of you._ Yuri looked down at his tea.

"Which ones are the milk candies?" He asked, poking through the pile. "The ones you brought last time."

"Here." Yuri scooped a few up in his hand and pushed them across the table. _This is real. I'm not crazy, and I'm still lucky. But then, why do I still feel this way?_


	10. Chapter 10

"Fuck!" Yuri hissed the word under his breath, but it grew to a frustrated growl. He breathed hard against the ice, letting his overheated cheek absorb the cold. Firm but gentle hands gripped his shoulders. "Are you okay, Yurio?"

 Yuuri's voice was soft and concerned, but he felt the urge to lash out, anyway. "No. I'm not fucking okay. I'm tripping over my own fucking feet!" He shoved his way out of his grip. The first few weeks had been torture, overestimating his strength, not giving enough speed and power to his jumps, forgetting that his center of balance was considerably lower than what he'd been used to.

Then, just as he'd began to regain his grace, he was growing again. He woke in the middle of the night with agonizing leg cramps several times a week. His skin itched and burned, and despite the lotion he'd been diligently rubbing into it, he developed angry red stretch marks on his thighs. It seemed like his very bones ached, and not just from the grueling practice he was putting himself through in an effort to overcome this disadvantage. His feet were suddenly tight in his skates, and he'd had to buy new ones, breaking them in with less than a month to the GPF. To add insult to injury, his chin was breaking out.

He told himself that he'd survived this once, and he'd do it again. He was already past the worst of growing. Looking back, he'd considered this period of time a mere inconvenience, his body eventually deciding to stop waging war on him and settling into its familiar, reliable shape. Had he forgotten how awful it was? He told himself that he'd be glad to get back to the body that he had grown used to soon enough. The only problem was that he'd quickly gotten used to _this_ one all over again, and he was learning that he relied on muscle memory far more than he'd thought- and it was affecting his performance.

Yuri struggled to his feet, and threw himself back into his routine. He wobbled on his first landing, and spilled over on the next.

"Enough!" Yelled Yakov, from the sidelines. "Go home."

 _"I'm not going home!"_ Yuri screamed. His temper seemed to have regressed a bit, as well.

"Yes, you are. You're useless when you get frustrated like this. Go home before you hurt yourself." He stood calmly with his arms folded, daring Yuri to make a scene.

It was impossible to argue with Yakov when he wasn't even raising his voice, so Yuri huffed and stomped off of the ice without another word, only stopping to exchange his skates for shoes before stalking out of the building. Tears stung his eyes as he walked. He wasn't ready for the GPF. He wasn't ready for Worlds. He could forget about Worlds at this rate, unless he pushed himself harder. Not winning Worlds would sting, and not even getting to Worlds would be a humiliation he'd never forgive himself. He had no choice but to do it.

 The paperwork for the Olympics was already filed, though. He _had_ to win, even if it was just bronze like last time. He couldn't lose face at the goddamn Olympics. He'd done it once in this body, he could do it again. Maybe. Maybe if his body wasn't bombarding him with surges of hormones that made anger and despair wash over him, ebbing and flowing, crashing in angry waves. Maybe if he wasn't terrified that it had been only luck that saw him through last time. It could all go wrong so quickly, in so many horrible ways.

He found a package on the doorstep when he arrived at Lilia's apartment, and was surprised to see it addressed to him. Once inside, he tore it open, and was hit with a cloud of perfume. _Bath bombs? Beka, I know this was you. How do you always know when I've had enough? How are you so goddamn perfect? God, I love him so much._

Potya sniffed at the box and turned his nose up at the strong smell, jumping down and swishing his tail behind him. Yuri glanced at the time. He still had two hours before he had to start cooking dinner, and he had the place to himself. He selected a blue and white bath bomb from the package, and filled Lilia's deep tub with scalding hot water. He stripped down as it filled, wincing as he peeled away the parts of his leggings and socks that were stuck to him with dried blood. Slowly, he lowered himself in, and watched the bomb fizzle in his hands, turning the water a tropical turquoise hue. Bits of seaweed floated around him, and he leaned back so that his hair was under the surface, imagining for a moment that he was floating in the tranquil waters of Hasetsu.

 _He thought to do this for me, even though he's exhausted from training, himself. I don't deserve him. Not after what I did. Especially not-_ his mind brought forth a horrible memory, of when he was alone, and angry. When he had tried to get over him by trying to hate him. He'd sneer at his ranking, nitpick his errors on the ice, and tell himself how much _better_ he was, how Otabek was on a downward slope- not knowing that the reason his performance was lacking was the breath being choked out of his lungs. He hated himself for that, even if he hadn't known. Even though he was never able to truly hate him, no matter how much he criticized him in his head. He used to resent how Otabek had claimed his heart so thoroughly that he knew that he'd never be free, not for the rest of his life. On those nights, he'd wish that one of them would die. It seemed the only way he'd be able to move on. Now, he hated himself for that wish, as well.

 _I deserve every cut and bruise for that. If I lose, I deserve that, too, because I still have him, after being so awful._  He felt hot tears burning his eyes, and he let them seep into the water. _I don't want to lose, though. I don't know what I'll do if I can't win._


	11. Chapter 11

Bronze.

_Humiliating._

Yuri focused on breathing, focused on not letting his eyes tear up. He plastered a false smile on his face and tried to think of something else, anything else, but skating. Otabek beamed from above him, his silver medal gleaming in the light. Yuri stared straight ahead and smiled. They were off the podium, now. _You beat JJ, at least you beat JJ. By a fraction of a point, who are you kidding. He would have beat you if he were lucky. He would have beat you, again. Yuuri fell, and still got gold. That gold belongs to Otabek. Fuck it, it belongs to ME. No, I don't deserve it. I wasn't good enough. Too many flaws. Lilia will be furious. Why is she smiling at me? It's your job to be pissed at me. Do your job, woman. I don't feel so good..._

"Yura?" Otabek's voice broke through the clamor of noise around him.

"You deserved gold." He managed, pulling Otabek into a tight hug.

"I did my best, Yura." A quick squeeze back. "You were incredible. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Yura?"

_I'm going to cry, that's why I can't stop gasping. It's okay to cry now. People will think it's... euphoria. Damn it, why can't I stop gasping?_

"-don't feel good, c-can't breathe." He managed. His throat was closing up, his chest felt oddly tight. He was aware of Otabek hurrying him to the locker rooms and onto a bench, pressing a cold drink into his hand. He was crying now, but also choking. Otabek had his arms around him, rubbing his back. _I think I'm going to pass out!_ Otabek was talking, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. He clutched at his chest.

"Yura, breathe, now.."

 _Can't breathe, asshole! Do something! I'm going to die!_ Fear clawed at his throat. Otabek held the bottle to his lips, and he somehow managed a sip of liquid, then another. Another breath, then two. Time stretched out, and all he could hear was the drumming of his heart in his ears, the rasp of his breath forcing air into his tight lungs.

Suddenly, it ended, and fatigue hit him. His body felt like a lead weight. He slumped against Otabek, who thankfully kept him from falling over.

"Better now?" He asked, his voice low and gentle.

"What the fuck just happened."

"I think you had a panic attack."

"I don't have those. Nothing to panic about." Yuri sat up. "I just... I don't know what happened. I... I don't want to go out with the others."

"We're not. It's okay. Do you think you're up to riding? I can get a cab."

"No, I'm fine. And you should go. You won. They'll want to buy you drinks and shit."

"I'm going with you." Otabek said, firmly. "We're going back to the hotel, and we'll clean up, and order some food. It's what I'd rather do, anyway."

Yuri stood carefully, relieved that his legs felt steady. "I can ride. Let's get out of here." _Please, get me out of here!_

He felt better once he was outside, speeding away from the rink. He led Otabek lead him through the hotel lobby and up to his room, as though in a trance.

"Take the first shower. I'll handle the rest." Otabek gave him a clean t shirt and shorts, and left him in privacy.

Yuri stared at his pale face in the mirror, blotchy under layers of makeup. _What's wrong with me?_

He stripped down and started the shower. He scrubbed his face twice before washing his hair and then stood under the spray, breathing in the steam and the scent of Otabek's shampoo. _Okay. I knew this was going to happen. Kind of. I didn't win gold, that year. I won silver. And Otabek deserved the silver more than I did, this time. You got over it. Why are you still upset? Katsuki did a good job. Victor can stop nagging him, now. That's a good thing. I won't have to listen to them bitch about that particular subject anymore. Am I upset because I slipped? I should be happy for Beka. I AM happy for Beka. I don't understand._

He scrubbed the sweat off his body and dried off. Otabek's clothes were slightly baggy and very soft.

"I stopped by your room and brought you some stuff." Otabek gestured to the dresser, where he'd stacked Yuri's toothbrush, hair brush, and a change of clothes. "Dinner is on its way, and I've texted Yakov for you."

"You're perfect." Yuri pulled him in for a deep kiss. "I wanted to do that at the rink. I'm so proud of you."

Otabek actually blushed. "I'm going to take a shower now, Yura. Make yourself at home."

Yuri settled down on the bed. He'd been so exhausted just an hour before, but he could feel a second wind coming on. Still, he was glad that he wasn't at the banquet. Otabek was out of the shower and dressed by the time the food arrived. There was a lot of it. They sat at the tiny side table with the contents of the bag stacked high between them. Yuri didn't realize how famished he felt until he had the first bite of a dumpling in his mouth. He ate twice as much as he normally did without a word, finally slowing down enough to talk .

"I'm glad they chose Japan this year." He grunted, as he refilled his plate. "I'm going to eat even more tomorrow."

Otabek chucked. "I get you to myself for the next two days. You can eat as much as you like."

"I love you." Yuri blurted out.

"I love you too, Yura." Otabek wiped a drop of sauce from his chin.

"I just... wanted to remind you." Yuri was quiet then. Together, the finished the last scrap of food and bundled up the empty cartons and bags.

"What happened tonight..." Otabek began. "It's normal, Yura. It can happen to anyone."

"I feel fine now." He insisted. "I'm with you." He pulled back the covers, and Otabek settled into the bed with him and brought up a playlist on his laptop.

"You're still upset." Otabek observed.

"Yeah." Yuri admitted, after a moment. "But not because you beat me. I'm happy about that part. When you win, it's like me winning. Almost." He added, feeling the need to be honest. It felt like winning and losing all at once, which he supposed it was.

"You'll have your chance to beat us both at Worlds. Not to mention the Olympics."

"Maybe." Yuri sighed. He rolled over to face him. "Your makeup alone should've won gold. I seriously have trouble restraining myself around you in eyeliner, you know."

Otabek looked pleased, through he tried to hide it. "Do you want me to wear it for you sometime?"

"All the time." Yuri teased. "But maybe when I'm not so tired."   _I have him. That's all I need. I'll be fine as long as I don't read anything about tonight. I'll just...avoid it._


	12. Chapter 12

_Given that they saw each other so little, Yuri always found it hard to keep his hands to himself when Otabek was around. Whenever they were alone, his hands wandered. His lips and tongue sought out the taste of his skin, his nose; his scent, his fingers; the texture of his hair. Otabek's kisses were soft, yet determined. "Yura, Yura..." He whispered, against his lips, his jaw, his throat.  "Do you love me, Yura? Say you've always loved me." He spoke with the reverence of the thirteen year old boy who had, unknown to him,  silently pledged his heart._

Yes, of course, I love you more than anything. Don't be stupid. You know that I'm yours. I couldn't be with anyone else, ever _. Yuri opened his mouth, but his voice was gone; only a croak of air passed his lips. He could not speak._

_Otabek seized on his mouth again in desperation, and Yuri tasted a metallic tang, as though he'd scraped his lip. Yuri deepened the kiss, anxious to show him how he felt, how he would do anything for him. Only now, his mouth was filling with blood, Otabek's  blood, and making him choke. Otabek wouldn't release him, even with the sticky red liquid overflowing their mouths and dribbling down his chin, onto Yuri's chest. Terrified, Yuri pulled back, but Otabek simply stared sadly at him, blood and tattered petals plastered to his cheek. His skin began to bubble up like a bloated corpse, and tendrils of vinelike growths broke this skin, consuming the body in his arms, rapidly turning it to mulch as tight red buds burst into jagged blooms. He ripped at the vines and flowers, but the more frantically he tore at them, the more sprung up in their place, devouring his lover._

Yuri awoke sniffling, surprised he wasn't screaming. Otabek was safe beside him, his chest rising and falling with his breaths. Yuri fumbled for his phone. It was morning, though the thick hotel drapes blocked out any trace of light.  He took several deep breaths, willing his pulse to slow down as he absently flicked through the screens on his phone. He found his finger pausing over Kyouko's name. _No, she wouldn't even understand me. It's useless. But I wonder what she's doing? She's changing things, as well. That's not good..._

Yuri's thoughts drifted to how he'd left Otabek at the onsen, just before meeting her. Everything he'd gone through with that Otabek hadn't happened yet, hopefully some of it never would. Did he destroy that world like Kyouko had said, or did it still exist, Otabek awakening to find himself alone? No, no, that couldn't be right. It didn't exist anymore. Everything he'd shared with Otabek... he'd remembered things that never happened, had loved him for so many years more than this Otabek had loved him. He felt a pang of longing as he remembered...

The weight beside him shifted. " _Kotik,_ are you crying?" His concerned voice was slurred with sleep.

"No." Yuri lied, through a sniffle.

Otabek's arms closed around him, pulling him close, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Just had a bad dream, I think." He muttered, in defeat.

"You were upset last night." Otabek noted, quietly. "You know that you can tell me if there's something wrong."

_No, I can't. If I tell you, you might think that I'm pretending to love you so that I don't wind up killing you, and you'll get sick again. For all I know you're still infected... I don't know when it happened, and I'm not taking any chances. Or maybe you'll just think I'm crazy. Hell, with my luck, you'll think both._

"I know." He replied, and then, knowing it wasn't enough, added, "I don't want to let you go again. We've barely had any time together."

"We'll be together soon, I promise." Yuri shivered as Otabek's lips moved against his skin.

"Come with me to Hasetsu. Before the Olympics. It's practically on the way there." He blurted, causing Otabek to chuckle.

"It isn't anywhere near 'on the way there'."

"Whatever! After Worlds, then. Come with me. Just for a week. Even less. Please."

"I will." Simple as that, no argument, no explanation needed. He loved that about him.  "But I'm not going yet. You're all mine today. "  Otabek left the bed, and turned on the lights, breaking the spell of the night.

They stayed in the hotel for breakfast. Yuri scanned the room for the other skaters, but luckily, they seemed to have gone elsewhere. As they began to eat, Otabek unzipped his hoodie, exposing a glint of silver. He was wearing the collar Yuri had given him, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to show off Yuri's claim on him.

"Beka. You can't _do_ this to me in public all day! Wearing that!" He groaned.

"Well. Maybe I have a surprise for you." Otabek said, as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm."

"Beka. You have to tell me what it is." Yuri kicked his foot under the table, and Otabek grinned.

"I may have reserved a room at a love hotel." He smirked.

"What? Beka. What if someone sees us? Yakov and Lilia would crucify me! And you're supposed to be the good influence!"  Yuri felt his face breaking into an excited smile, even as the worries mounted. "They think we're not even fucking when we sleep over! Or if they do, they pretend they don't, because you're so 'polite and mature'!"

"I'd never bring you someplace unsafe. It's quite far from here, and there's a back entrance, so we won't be seen. You'll be back in time to have dinner with Yakov and Lilia. And you _do_ want to go, don't you?"

"Yes." Huffed Yuri. "I'll just text Yakov that we're sightseeing." Yuri pulled out his phone, and hurriedly typed. "Let's get out of here before someone tries to talk to us."

Once he was clinging to Otabek's waist as his bike sped across the city, Yuri felt a bit foolish for being so overemotional. Of course things would be all right. Otabek adored him, and knew that Yuri felt the same. They were going to a _love hotel._

Otabek parked the bike and led him down a tree lined street, and to the back of a nondescript building. His stomach fluttered with excitement as Otabek checked in on a sleek panel on the wall. This place looked expensive. Yuri thought that love hotels were supposed to be seedy places, but he suddenly felt underdressed- which was a little ironic, considering how he'd be completely undressed in a few minutes. _How long has he been planning this?_  They opened a door and-

"What the fuck, Beka, this place is so cool!" Yuri cried, rushing in. The room was dark and windowless, lit mainly by three spotlights over a bar, footlights that sent multicolored stars spinning around the walls and ceiling, and a green glow emitting from the sunken hot tub that took up a third of the room. There was a bed, of course, but also a huge television mounted on the mirrored walls, a sound system, and video games.

"It's ours all day." Otabek grinned. "No need to rush."

Otabek pulled him into a kiss before breaking away, and heading to the bar. He opened two beers, and passed one to Yuri before sitting. "I'm glad you agreed."

"Agreed? You're the best boyfriend ever. What gave you the idea though, you dirty old man?" Yuri smirked.

He loved making Otabek blush. "Er. Well, to be honest, there is ... a fantasy of mine..." He gestured to the area over the bed, where some straps of fabric hung from the ceiling.

"Is that one of those sex hammock things?" Yuri peered at the series of straps and pulleys.

"Yes." Otabek looked down. "I always wanted to... I mean. I could worship you, in that thing."

Yuri felt his own cheeks heating up. "I'll do it. Anything you want, but I get a fantasy, too."

"Oh?" Otabek looked on in interest as Yuri began to undress.

"Yeah. You've got to keep those gloves on while you fuck me."

Otabek stood, a low growl forming in the back of his throat. Yuri finished stripping down, and reached for him, pulling off his shirt eagerly. He ran his hands down Otabek's sides, enjoying the twitch of the muscles under his skin as he went. He hooked a finger into the loop of the collar at Otabek's throat, and gently tugged. "You're gonna worship me, hmm? I like that." Yuri leaned back on the bed, eyeing the mess of straps. "Get me in that thing."

Otabek surveyed the straps, and brought down a wide strip of material to support Yuri's back. Yuri shifted and leaned back on it, letting his arms be guided into padded stirrups, his wrists bound with Velcro cuffs that were stronger than they looked. Otabek kissed the tips of his fingers on each hand, and then moved to his legs, repeating the process. He shivered as he felt the brush of leather gloves against his inner thighs as Otabek made adjustments. He felt himself getting hard already, his nipples shrinking into tight peaks, and Otabek had barely touched him.  He let out a shuddering breath. There was no way he'd trust anyone else like this, but with Otabek, it was different. Suddenly, he was pulled up by the straps, suspended over the bed and pinned under Otabek's dark gaze.  A quick glance across and down told him that Otabek was ready to go, and yet, he took his time, kissing up the inside of his leg, caressing the outside with those gloved hands.

"Yura." He sighed. "My Yura."

"Tell me how long you've wanted me in this thing." Yuri felt his breath becoming harsher as he spoke.

"Last August. I saw a picture, and ... it wasn't enough. I had  to imagine you like this, instead." Otabek's hands came up to his chest, stroking, a combination of gentle fingertips and soft leather. The seams of the gloves felt harder as they brushed against his nipples, and he arched his back into the sensation. "Yura, beautiful as a fairy. Hard-" he punctuated his with a quick lick to the tip of his dripping cock, "like a diamond." And then Otabek's mouth was on him, and his gloved hands as well, sucking, pulling, groaning as though he'd never get enough of the taste of him.  Yuri cried out, thrashing against the straps that held him snugly in place. Otabek raised his eyes to meet his, full of lust and hunger, as though he could come just from pleasuring Yuri, and Yuri knew that he probably could.

"Fuck me, Beka!" He growled. "Put it in. Put it all the way in!"  And suddenly, he felt a tug, and his bottom half was hoisted higher in the air. He couldn't see what Otabek was doing, but heard the click of the cap on the bottle of lube, and felt the cold liquid touch his skin as Otabek's fingers went to work preparing him. He pressed back against his fingers as best as he could, helpless as he dangled in the swing, steadied by Otabek's strong hands... and then Otabek was at his entrance, as pushing in.  Another jerk upward as Otabek pulled on the strap, a gasp from the back of his own throat as Otabek grabbed his ankles for leverage. Otabek was thrusting from above him, now, and able to go deeper than he'd ever done from the front. Yuri's legs were raised above him in a delicious stretch, somehow heightening the sensations all the way to his groin. Yuri knew that he wasn't going to last long, and cried out a warning that he hoped was coherent. He was trapped in place, unable to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, though his legs thrashed against it , beyond his control. He rode out his orgasm on Otabek's last desperate, jutting thrusts, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, just catching their breath and coming to their senses. Eventually, he felt Otabek pull out of him, felt the swing being lowered, and his wrists being unbound as Otabek kissed him, dripping with sweat.

"Beka." He sighed. "Get me to the tub."

Otabek obeyed, standing on shaky legs to lift him.  He stepped into the tub, carefully lowering Yuri down into the swirling hot water. "Don't fall asleep in here." He had the pretense of mind to warn.

 _It's almost as good as the onsen_ , Yuri thought, leaning against Otabek's shoulder. "That was incredible. You were." He corrected himself. "Did it live up to your fantasy?"

"It exceeded it." Otabek confirmed, squeezing his hand. "Thank you, Yura."

"For what?" Yuri asked. "You're the one that put everything together."

"For... letting me." Otabek clarified. "I mean... there are times when I don't feel worthy of you, and you want me anyway. I worked so hard to be worthy of you, Yura." There as a strange look in his eyes then, the look that Yuri knew meant that he'd said more than he'd meant to.

"Listen. I love you, Beka. I want you. You're the coolest, sexiest guy in the world, okay? And my best friend. So no more of that crap, huh? Don't forget that I love you, Beka."  Yuri, took his chin in his hand and forced him to meet his eyes. "Don't you dare doubt that, no matter what happens, okay?"

Otabek nodded, looking confused at the sudden outburst of devotion. Yuri let him go, and leaned back against the tub _.  Don't you dare doubt me_ , he thought, fiercely.


	13. Chapter 13

"Oi, Katsudon." Yuri began, as he leaned back into the steaming water. "Did you ever meet a girl called Kyouko?"

"Well, yes, I suppose." Yuuri replied. "It's a very common name, you see."

"Oh. Even in Hasetsu?"

Yuuri couldn't help but notice the slight disappointment in his voice. "Did you meet someone here?" he asked, cautiously fishing for more information.

"Not like that! I have a man." Yuri huffed, looking a bit more proud than angry. Yuuri smiled to himself. Yes, proud; like he was when people saw him with Victor, he supposed. Yet, it was far more noticeable on someone like Yuri, who rarely showed a soft emotion. Yuri doted on Otabek, rubbing his sore muscles, pouring his drinks, fussing over him in a way that he never would have believed that he was capable of, and it had all happened so _quickly._ He was still getting used to it, more than a year later. It had worried him at first, but the relationship seemed stable, and Otabek seemed sincere.

"I wasn't implying that." He said, gently. "But someone you'd like to meet again?"

"Maybe. Yeah." He went quiet, then, breathing in the steam, his pale hair fanned out in the water behind him. He looked exhausted. He'd barely seen him other than on the ice these past few months. Yuri had thrown himself into practice with an intensity that had even Victor and Yakov concerned. Time off the ice was spent stretching and dancing, as far as he could see. His limbs were longer, and he seemed bonier than ever. Yuuri had worked himself to his limit, and even so, he suspected that Yuri had worked harder. Once the glow of being the World champion had begun to fade, he worried that Yuri would resent him for it. But, Yuri had taken his bronze medal quietly, and when he did talk to him again, it was to ask to come to Hasetsu with Otabek.

It was unsettling , just _how_ quiet he'd been about it. There was something more than fatigue in those green eyes, where his smile didn't reach. There was a hollowness, a sort of sadness that he couldn't find a way to address without being insensitively direct about it. He hoped that Otabek would arrive soon, and make him calm and happy again. He hoped that Victor wouldn't rile him up before then, and if he did, that it would at least distract him.

"Do you know where she lives?" He prodded.

"No." Yuri didn't meet his eyes directly. "We exchanged numbers. I don't speak Japanese well enough yet to really call. I mean, in person, it's a little easier, I don't feel as stupid."

It was rare that Yuri admitted that he wasn't good enough at something. Yuuri suspected it caused him almost physical pain. It took him aback. "I could call her for you." Yuuri offered, expecting the other to snap at him in return; but Yuri looked distracted for a minute, and then nodded.

"Yeah, maybe. Just... If you could invite her someplace for me. For tea or something. Don't make a big deal of it, okay? She's... she's just a fan. I don't even like girls. I don't want people to get the wrong idea. So don't tell Victor, because he's got a big mouth, okay?"

Yuuri tried not to grin at the way he dictated the terms of the favor he was asking. "Of course. I won't say a word." There was no way that the girl was a fan, he knew, but he also believed that Yuri wasn't romantically interested. He knew not to push. Just enough distance, and Yuri would confide in him soon enough, like a wary semi-feral cat.

"Thanks." Yuri mumbled, looking embarrassed.

"Of course. I'm happy that you're making friends in Hasetsu. This is your home, too." He was pleased that Yuri didn't argue, but simply grunted a response that might have even been in agreement.

After they'd finished their bath, Yuuri pulled him aside before anyone else could disturb them. He found himself a bit nervous taking the phone, but couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was just the oddness of calling a stranger.

"Yuri?" The woman's voice sounded apprehensive, but overjoyed to receive the call.

"Er. Hello, yes, I mean. My name is Yuuri. But not the one that you think I am."

"How did you get his phone?" Suddenly, her voice was cold and sharp. "What have you done with him?"

"I'm his friend. He's right here with me. He was only shy about speaking Japanese on the phone. Yurio! Come here and say hello to Kyouko."

Yuri looked like he was about to strangle him. "Just a quick hello. I'll still talk." He added quickly, in Russian.

"Hello." Yuri managed, before thrusting the phone back, his cheeks red.

"Yuri is visiting me in Hasetsu, and he'd like to meet you again."

There was quiet on the other end of the line.

"Meet me where?"

Yuuri ran though his options mentally, and named a cafe one train stop away. If Yuri wanted to keep this quiet, he couldn't see her in Hasetsu, but he didn't want him to get lost, either.

"I can come tomorrow morning, at eleven."  She decided, sounding unsure, but then added firmly, "Tell him I'll meet him at the station. And by himself."

"I will. It was nice to talk to you." He handed the phone back to Yuri, and relayed the message.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

"Otabek should be arriving soon." Yuuri deliberately noted, changing the subject. "Tomorrow afternoon, already. If he isn't too tired, we can all go to the beach for a walk." The girl had sounded odd, all right, but somehow mentioning it seemed like the wrong thing to do, with Yuri seeming so edgy and nervous. The distraction worked, though. Yuri's eyes brightened at the mention of his boyfriend, and the tense feeling the phone call had given him faded as Mari challenged them to video games.

Still, it lingered at the edge of his thoughts for the rest of the night.


	14. Chapter 14

Despite his jet lag, Yuri was restless that night as he curled himself up under two quilts on the futon. He was nervous about seeing Kyouko again. She almost didn't seem real to him. Memories of their first meeting clashed with the memory of their flustered parting, and he wondered which Kyouko to expect; or if she would be some surreal combination of the two. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, or what he was going to ask. He had to see her, though. For both of their sakes, they had to make sure that they kept this particular world on track.

He was grateful that they would meet before Otabek's arrival, so that he wouldn't have to make excuses about her. All the same, he was counting down the minutes to being with Otabek again.  He wouldn't need two quilts if Otabek was beside him, holding him close. He thought about what Beka had implied, _after the Olympics._ Would he ask him to visit more, or visit more, himself? He didn't want to distract either of them from their rigorous training, but a selfish part of him felt that he'd earned the right to be a higher priority. He'd loved Beka for years, he'd been on the cusp of proposing to him. When everything went wrong, he was infuriated that the amount of sympathy given to him didn't feel nearly adequate, even from people who ought to know better. If he'd only married him sooner, he could have said, _my husband left me_ , and any idiot would have seen the pain he'd been in. But saying _my boyfriend left me_... people patted him on the shoulder, told him it would get better, had the nerve to say that it happens to everyone that that he would soon forget all about it. As though he could ever.  But, this Otabek had loved him for far less time.  He shouldn't expect as much as he wanted to expect. He didn't want to scare him away.  He wondered if Kyouko was eyeing her own life with such nervousness. He wondered if she even remembered what had happened.

 His fingers found his phone without him thinking. He frowned at his urge to text Otabek. He'd been so careful to not overdo things. He had to get everything right, this time...

\---

Yuri arrived early at the station due to his nervousness, but Kyouko still beat him there. Backed against the station wall, she flicked her gaze across the tracks until she saw him. Her pale face and dark eyes stood out despite the lack of makeup, and she seemed to sink into the dark clothes that covered her like armor. Some emotion flooded her features that Yuri found difficult to identify.

"Yuri." She reached out, and squeezed his hand.

Yuri felt the strange urge to hug her, but didn't. It felt like a relief to see her again, proof that he wasn't losing his mind. "Kyouko, do you want to speak English, or Japanese?" he asked.

"Both. I speak better English than last time. I was nervous."

"Me too." Yuri reluctantly let go of her hand, and followed her off the station's steps in silence, and down the lane to the small coffee shop.

Once they brought their purchases to a table, she spoke. "How much do you remember?"

"Everything. What about you?"

Kyouko frowned. "At first nothing. Then I remembered everything.... I should thank you for what you did." She transitioned into Japanese.

"Thank you, too." Yuri replied.

"Did you find him?" She looked concerned, even as she seemed distracted, glancing out of the window.

"I did. I think we're going to be okay. Nothing bad has happened yet... what are you looking for?"

"To see if someone is following me." She said darkly, in English again.

"What's going on, exactly? Who's trying to hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I can't now. Not here." She gestured around the cafe.

"What about if I bring you someplace safe?" he asked. She didn't reply. _She doesn't even trust me one hundred percent._ The realization stung. He hadn't expected it to.

"Where?"

"YuTopia. The onsen. I'm staying there with my friend." Bringing her would mean concocting a lie to tell Otabek and everyone else, but he needed to talk to her without this distraction. This seemed to convince her, as she nodded.

"With Katsuki Yuuri." She affirmed. "I read about you both, when I came back. I knew a little bit about you in the Temple. Now I know more."

"It's safe there. I promise." Yuri gathered up the paper cups and napkins to dispose of, and then let Kyouko walk in front of him, again.

"I'm staying with my aunt. My parents are still dead." She said it matter-of-factly, as though she'd repeated the words many times. She probably had.

"I'm sorry. We didn't go far enough back, did we?"

"I think that maybe some things can't be prevented. Stepping into a building can."

Yuri wanted to say how afraid he was that his own future couldn't be prevented, but it seemed too intimate a thing to admit outside of four safe walls.  He climbed the station steps with a sigh, feeling the cool breeze contrasting with the warm sun on his face, and hearing the horn and engine of the train approaching. Despite the beautiful day, Kyouko's behavior had him on edge.

"You can take a bath when we get there, if you'd like. Obviously I've never been in the women's side, but I'm sure it's just as nice... It always makes me feel a little better." he admitted. "And the food there-"

It was just movement caught out of the corner of his eye, but given his nerves, it was enough. It took a split second for the man in the hood to barrel up to them, straight at Kyouko.

_He's going to push her._

Yuri's body sprang into action without him realizing it, meeting the man head on with his own body, knocking violently against him and sending them both sprawling backward onto the concrete. His victory was short lived, however, as the man rolled and pinned him, punching his face in a rage.

Yuri had never been in a proper fight, despite all of his posturing. He knew in theory how to make a fist, how to avoid injury, where to hit. None of these facts made it to the front of his mind, though, as he flung his limbs, bit, and scratched at the man above him, satisfied to see that he had drawn blood, at least.  It wasn't enough.

The man's hands clutched at his neck, cutting off his breath, and Yuri desperately summoned up the last of his strength, fueled by adrenaline and panic, to knee him and kick him; flinging him away with all of his strength. Then he was tumbling, and sharp, searing pain seared up and down his leg; and he heard, rather than felt, the crack of his own head hitting the concrete before he saw black.


	15. Chapter 15

Yuri was faintly aware of his body being jostled around, though he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Someone was lifting him, then almost dropping him, a metallic clang resonating beneath him. There were too many voices, speaking Japanese. Too many people to understand the words. It was difficult to focus.

"Yuri. Yu-ri." An accented male voice came to his attention, annoying him.

_Go away. My head hurts._

Something in Japanese about... eyes?  

_My eyes hurt._

How many... eyes? How many fingers. Yuri. YU-RI.

_Fuck off, will you, I'm tired and it hurts._

He tried to speak, but his voice slurred, the words getting lost somewhere in his throat.

When the din around him became quiet, he peeled open his eyes and squinted against the light.

"Yuri-kun?" The woman's voice was soft and comforting. He was in a bed, on his back... and everything hurt. His head throbbed. His knee... oh, God. _His knee._ Despair and panic welled up with him, and suddenly he was sobbing, crying out for his grandpa, for Yakov, for Victor. He had no control over his voice or his tears, shaking violently as some part of him struggled to get control of himself. He was trying to fling his limbs. Someone was holding him down, and that only made it worse.

"LET ME GO!" He screamed, realizing that they were moving to restrain him. There was a rapid fire conversation above him, and the kind female voice told him that he was going to be okay. He blinked as a feeling of fog and fatigue slipped over him.

_They drugged me. They..._

Yuri knew that he wasn't supposed to be attempting quads. He'd had it drilled into him for months, now. His body was growing, and he could hurt himself... but it looked so _easy_ , and he hated being babied. Maybe others his age shouldn't attempt it, but he was better than all of them. He could already land more jumps than anyone two years older than him. He already _knew_ he was going to win gold. Grandpa would be so proud... and he'd never have to worry about money again, because Yuri was a man now, and was going to take care of everything. Yakov would be furious, but surely Grandpa would secretly approve... and Victor Nikiforov would smile at him again, and talk to him, and maybe even teach him things that he wasn't supposed to know yet. Things that would make him a winner. He was going to be just like Victor someday.

Victor was here today. He'd be watching. Yuri was going to show him just how good he could be. He just had to do it before Yakov came back and saw him do it. Victor looked on with mild concern as he accelerated, and Yuri met his eye, launching into the air. _Quad toe loop. Just like Victor._

But the world was spinning on its axis, and his stomach lurched as he felt himself coming down _, no, no, no..._ pain wrenched his ankle, and his face went cold and clammy as his vision darkened and he saw a series of red and green blotches. He was crying, more from fear than from pain, although that, too was terrible. He'd hurt himself, and he was ashamed to have not listened, and afraid of Yakov's anger and Grandpa's disappointment, and he had to skate again, he had  to win because they needed the money...

Strong arms pulled him up, and Victor was rushing him to the side of the rink. "Shh. Don't panic, Yuri. It's okay, it's okay." He made him sit, and his fingers quickly unlaced his skate. "This will hurt for just a second." The skate was yanked off, and Yuri saw stars, barking out a rude word he wasn't supposed to know. He might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn that Victor chuckled.

Victor's delicate fingers probed his ankle, and wrapped it in a tight bandage. "Stay." he commanded, as though he had a choice. He was back a moment later, with an ice pack, and some pills and water. Yuri swallowed the pills, and new tears began to spill over.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he whimpered. He'd ruined his life, he'd ruined Grandpa's life.

Victor put an arm around him and squeezed tightly. "It looks like you just sprained it, but we'll take you to the doctor to be sure. Don't cry, Yuri. It happens to everyone. It's happened to me."

"Really?" Yuri managed, hope rising in his chest.

"Twice." Victor confirmed, seriously. "If you listen to the doctor, then you'll get better, and be stronger than before." Victor smiled, that angelic television grin that charmed millions. He was helping Yuri out of his other skate when Yakov came in, screaming bloody murder. Victor stood up, looked him in the eye- and with an apologetic grin, _lied for him._

And with that, Victor Nikiforov ceased to be an untouchable god, and became his brother.

\--

"Yurio..."

He moaned at the familiar voice, struggling to wake up. It felt like he was swimming through toffee. It felt like an hour before he could force his eyes open.

"Victor..." Victor was holding his hand. His fingers felt like ice. "I'm cold." Someone draped another blanket over him, and the chill subsided.

"You're in the hospital, in Hasetsu. You're safe."

"Hospital?" Yuri frowned, trying to piece together the information.

"You saved a woman's life." Victor continued, seriously. "You're very brave. Everyone is saying that you're a hero."

Images came flooding back to the front of his mind. "Kyouko..."

"She is safe. And you're going to be just fine." Victor replied, a little too firmly.

Yuri didn't like the cheerful look in his eyes. "My...my knee. What the fuck happened to my knee? Fucking hell, my life is over!" Panic clawed at his throat. _No, no, no..._

"They took x-rays. You have a fracture. They want to do an MRI to make sure that nothing else is wrong."

"Fucking _hell_ , Victor! Are you fucking _stupid?_ If they want an MRI, they _know_ something else is wrong!"

Victor didn't respond, but squeezed his hand. "I'm taking care of things for now. Don't panic. One thing at a time."

"Don't tell Grandpa." He managed, choking on a sob.

"Yuri, I have to tell him what's happening-"

"Not yet! Not today, tomorrow, okay? Just... just please don't worry him, not yet. Not until they do the test. Please!"

Victor hesitated, then nodded. "As soon as we get the results, I'll make the call. Yakov, too."

 _Yakov._ A new layer of depression settled over him.

"Grandpa is going to want to jump on a plane. Talk him out of it, please. Yakov, too, but he... he can handle that. Okay, Victor?" he pleaded.

"Yes. Just rest. I'm staying here tonight. Be good and eat what they bring you. Yuuri is here, and Otabek, too, but they won't allow you visitors until they move you to another room in the morning."

 _Otabek..._ Yuri took a deep, shaking breath. _Otabek is alive. He's alive. It doesn't matter what happens to me._

Except, it did.


	16. Chapter 16

"Well?" What do you see?" Yuri demanded again, but the technician just hummed and smiled comfortingly at him as she made notes on the image of his scan. _Why can't they just tell me?_ he fumed, as he was wheeled back to his new room. He was startled to see that every free surface had already been piled high with flowers, cards, and cat plushes.

"You are very popular." The nurse smiled, as she settled him into the hospital bed. "Your family is here to see you." she continued.

"My-"

Yuri was relieved to see that it was only Victor.

"Yakov is on his way." He said, without preamble. "I convinced your grandfather to stay put; Yuri, I had to. The news leaked. You wouldn't want him to find out that way, would you?"

Yuri groaned, and threw his head back against the pillow. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Where's Katsudon? Where's Beka?" he demanded. "And when are they going to tell me just what the hell is wrong with me?"

Victor sat beside him, smoothing a hand over his hair. "I made them go home. They needed to sleep."

Yuri realized with a twinge of guilt just how exhausted Victor looked then. "What about you, then? The bags under your eyes are worse than usual."

Victor's lip twitched in a half grin. "Don't worry about me. I'm going home soon, and they'll come..."

"What am I gonna do?" The question came out without him meaning to, small and shaky.

"You're going to get better." Victor said, firmly.

"What if I don't?" Yuri could feel his face getting warm again, as he forced himself to take several deep breaths. "What if Yakov comes all the way out here, and it's for nothing?"

"What do you mean, nothing?" Victor shifted, frowning at him.

"I mean, what if I can't skate anymore. And he's come all the way out to Japan for nothing, because I'm useless." Yuri spat out the words, annoyed that Victor needed this spelled out for him when it was so hard for him to say.

"He's coming because he loves you." Victor said, crossing his arms. "You're acting like it's just business."

 _What if it is?_ Yuri thought, but was too frightened to speak the words, in case they were true. He twisted his fingers in the bed sheets, looking down at his lap.

"Yuri. Look at me." Victor pleaded. "Yakov has loved you like a son since you were ten years old. I know he does, because he loves me, too. No one is going to abandon you. No one is going to let you go through this alone. Do you understand?"

Yuri nodded, because he felt as though he had little choice. Raising any doubts would just make him look like an asshole, he reasoned. "Yeah. Fine. You're right."

There was a sharp knock on the door frame, and Victor looked up with a smile. "Hello, Dr. Koide."

"Hello, Mr. Nikiforov. Yuri."

Yuri sat up straighter. "He can stay." He gestured at Victor, as the doctor opened his file. Victor's big mouth would save him a lot of energy, as he'd have to explain to less people.

"You have fractured your patellar, as you can see here." The doctor pointed at the image, speaking in slow, careful Japanese, repeating a few words in English for good measure. "You can see that the pieces of the bone do not line up correctly, as they were displaced when you were injured. You will need to have surgery in order to set the bone in place. It is a very serious break, but it could have been much worse."

Yuri nodded, uneasily, looking at the way his kneecap was shattered like a broken dish, imagining the impact of landing on the ice with dread.

"However, you also have damaged the anterior cruciate ligament.  It is a moderate tear, but I suggest that you have surgery to repair it, as you are an athlete."

Victor tried to hide the way that he winced at the diagnosis, but Yuri caught it, though he didn't react.

"How long is this going to take?" He blurted.

"The surgeries can be done very soon, but you will need physical therapy-"

"How long am I off the ice?" He asked, flatly.

"At least six months." The doctor said, with a stern frown. "Perhaps a year."

Yuri felt his body trembling, and he tried to will it to be still.

"It would be best to wait for the swelling to go down before we attempt surgery, but it would best to decide by the end of the week what you should do."

"Yuri?" Victor's voice broke through the haze he hadn't realized he'd been in.

"Where is the doctor?" Yuri blinked.

"He left a few minutes ago." Victor looked concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." Yuri replied, quickly.

"Yakov will help us find a good doctor. He knows people who have been through this sort of thing."

Yuri nodded. "You look like shit, Victor. Go home and go to sleep."

Victor hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay a little longer, until the others get here?"

Yuri blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Go home. I'm tired anyway."

Victor patted his shoulder, and stood.

Yuri waited until he was certain he was gone before turning against the pillow, trying to release his pent up emotions by sobbing as quietly as possible.


End file.
